


Drowning

by akissmar



Category: Violet Evergarden (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Character Study, Fluff, Implied Jealousy, M/M, Making Out, Self-Indulgent, Set mid-series, also this is super old, like really, not beta read we die like men, set after episode 9, wrote it like ~2 years ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:02:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22701436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akissmar/pseuds/akissmar
Summary: Hodgins stays late at work, and Benedict cares enough to drop by.It's late at night, and they have wine, and unspoken words fill the room with emotions felt for a long time.
Relationships: Benedict Blue & Claudia Hodgins, Benedict Blue/Claudia Hodgins
Comments: 12
Kudos: 112





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote 3/4 of this two years ago, and I just remembered that is exists. So I read through it in a frenzy, correcting my awful style errors, and wrote the last bit to dump it out immediately after.  
> Enjoy my dump, maybe 2 other people on the internet who like this ship too.  
> I know this fandom is almost non-existent, even though the anime is so wonderfully made and beautiful, and that actually makes me a little sad. Maybe someone will actually read and enjoy this, so - have fun. (And kudos for reading my whole author's note)

Claudia Hodgins is sitting at his desk, chin and cheek resting on his left palm and elbow propped up on the tabletop. His right hand is settled next to the contract he’s going through at the moment, fingers loosely holding onto a pen he started making some notes with in the beginning but then forgot to continue, now just a useless prop in his hand. His posture has clearly suffered from hours of sitting in one spot, of going through paperwork and letters. The only interruption had been the setting sun, which had forced him to rise and light up the lamps behind him. But even that had been a good amount of hours ago.

But although all this reading is slowly starting to make him crazy it is still work that makes him happy; running his own business has its perks and downfalls after all. And it’s not like he _has_ to stay up working like this every day, always just at the end of a month.

And until now he has successfully managed to ignore the light headache that’s been building up behind his forehead for the last hour or something. However, it’s growing more noticeable with every minute. But he won’t stop now, not when he is almost finished.

Two knocks against his office’s door startle him out of his concentration, and just when he looks up one of the double doors gets pushed open before he can even give a verbal permission to enter.

Benedict looks at him disapprovingly while leaning against the doorframe, arms folding in front of his chest. Who else could it be, barging into his office without an invitation? Credit’s due to him even knocking.

“You’re still up and working,” he comments dryly, meeting eyes with his superior. Hodgins just stares back, taking in the worn-out look on the other’s face and the delivery bag that’s dangling from his shoulder.

“Like you are one to judge,” Hodgins simply replies and straightens his posture, removing the supporting hand from his face. At this his headache intensifies and the next time he blinks his eyelids stay down for a moment longer than they usually would. Benedict, of course, takes notice of this, and a frown settles on his face.

Benedict scoffs as him. “My letters are important,” he states. “But your paperwork won’t run away.” He pushes himself off the doorframe. “And I bet you haven’t eaten since breakfast, huh? Come, I’ll bring back this bag and then we’ll go out. My treat.” His tone of voice has suddenly grown soft and is almost expressing concern.

As tempting as this proposal sounds, especially since they haven’t gone out in a while, just the two of them, Hodgins can’t just leave something he’s working on midway-through. He just can’t. And so he shakes his head and points at the small pile of papers in front of him that he still has to go through. “I’m sorry.”

Benedict just stares at him while a determined look finds its way into his eyes and he shrugs his shoulders. “Alright,” he says, “then I’ll get us something and bring it here.”

And at this he quickly closes the door behind him, not giving Hodgins any chance to protest.

He listens to Benedict’s footsteps as he leaves - his awful shoes are way too loud - and suddenly wonders how Benedict’s ankle’s been doing. It has only been two weeks since the incident, after all. He will have to try and remember asking him as soon as he comes back. But for now - back to work.

It doesn’t take long for the blond to return, or at least Hodgins has only gotten two pages further. Maybe it’s only his swindling concentration.

This time Benedict doesn’t knock, and he also closes the door behind him as he steps into the office. He holds a paper bag in his hand, and Hodgins can smell the contents even through the packaging and the distance. His mouth involuntarily starts watering while he realises just how hungry he actually is.

Benedict sits down on the black sofa that’s pushed against the wall of his office and grins at him, holding up the bag, and Hodgins reluctantly stands up and goes around his desk to join him. Before he sits down, however, he stretches his stiff limbs and sighs in relief when his joints crack. The soft sofa cushions are like a blessing for his body and mind.

“I got us dumplings and fried noodles. With vegetables and chicken,” Benedict explains while pushing the bag into his hands. “And-“ he lifts his right arm to show a bottle that Hodgins hasn’t noticed before- “This!” It’s a bottle of red wine - not a totally cheap one but nothing expensive either.

“Benedict,” Hodgins says in a scolding tone, “I’m at work.”

“And?” The blond just responds, a smile settling on his face while he drags two cups from the tea service that’s always on the table nearer towards them. “Technically, work hours are long over, so it doesn’t matter, right? And who is going to call you out on it, _your boss_?”

At this Hodgins can’t keep the disapproving look up. A small smile is creeping onto his lips as well. “Well,” he teases, “Maybe _you’ll_ get in trouble with your boss.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Benedict replies with twinkling eyes, “It’s not like he’ll find out, right?”

They both laugh at the absurdity of their conversation while Hodgnins eyes the bottle. A glass - or, due to his limited office tableware, a cup - of wine actually doesn’t sound like such a bad idea right now. And so he watches as the younger man pours the red liquid into two of his blue tea cups.

They eat in comfortable silence, both too exhausted for a long conversation, and Hodgins tries to keep at a slow pace, even when his body urges him to gulp the food down like a wild animal. His ache in his head is swindling, too, his mind and body slowly relaxing.

Benedict has already finished and started lounging on the sofa when Hodgins leans back as well, leaving the now empty take-out container on the table.

“Thank you,” he chuckles, turning to look at him. “That’s what I needed.”

Benedict simply shrugs, obviously a bit embarrassed by the gratitude. “It’s nothing,” he mumbles and stretches his legs out a bit, the small movement reminding Hodgins of what he wanted to ask.

“How is your ankle doing?” He points at the other’s right foot.

“Good,” Benedict answers curtly, making a small break before continuing: “It didn’t take that long to heal.”

Hodgins nods at this and leans forward to take his cup and take a sip. It’s good wine. “That’s good to hear. Although,” he leans back again and grins at the blond, “it wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you wouldn’t wear these awful shoes.”

His teasing achieves exactly what he wanted; Benedict crossing his arms in front of his chest and blowing his cheeks up in an exasperated manner. “My shoes had nothing to do with that,” he says.

“ _Of course_ ,” Hodgins replies amusedly, the alcohol losing him up a little. The thought of going back to his work gets more unpleasant with the minute and so he just closes his eyes and decides to rest a bit, letting a sigh leave his throat.

“Why are you even still working?” Benedict asks and Hodgins feels and hears how he leans forward and starts to refill their cups. “When you really have so much paperwork to do you should get some help.”

Hodgins grumbles at this and opens one eye to make a gesture with his hand, silently asking the blond to give him his cup. Benedict understands and places it in his hand before taking his own and leaning back again.

“It’s not usually this much,” Hodgins explains after taking a sip. “I’d be long finished if it weren’t for that contract I’m still reading. The firm that’s delivering us most of our resources changed some policies and even though it seems legit so far I still have to read all of it and take some notes.” He sighs, remembering that he didn’t take any notes for at least six or seven pages now. He figures that he’ll have to reread all of them...

“Hmm,” Benedict makes in an understanding tone. “Sounds exhausting. And boring.”

Hodgins shrugs and chugs down the rest of his wine. It’s not as if much fits in the tiny tea cups anyway.

They continue talking about trivial things; work, some rude customers, about Violet’s progress, and sit in comfortable silence in between. Hodgins almost protests when Benedict wants to give him his third refill but the words die in his throat. Through his exhaustion, the alcohol and his company he can’t imagine himself going back to work after all. He’ll probably work faster through the contract after a night’s rest anyway. And it isn’t his fault that the company sent the letter with the contract way too late into the month.

“I’ve got one question,” Benedict says after they just drank and sat there for a few minutes, both lost in their thoughts.

Hodgins tilts his head, encouraging the blond to continue. But Benedict stays quiet, suddenly seeming awfully flustered. And so the redhead leans a bit forward to get a better look on the other’s face that starts blushing at this. Hodgins wonders just what his friend is thinking about.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” Benedict says.

Hodgins laughs at that and shakes his head. “Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair to back away now? You’ve made me curious.”

The blond is staring at him for a few seconds before adverting his gaze. “Are you... are you and Cattleya together?”

Hodgins blinks in surprise and leans back again, shaking his head before sighing and taking another sip from his now almost-empty cup. “No, we’re not. I’m not interested in her in this way, although I noticed that she seems to be so in me. I don’t want to hurt her feelings but I guess I’m already doing that, in a way...” He pauses momentarily before smirking a bit and leaning towards the man sitting next to him. “Why are you asking? Are _you_ interested in her?”

Benedict’s eyes widen at this in horror, staring at him. “No!” He exclaims and Hodgins startles a little; he didn’t expect such an outburst. “No, I’m not interested in this stupid woman,” Benedict adds, voice a bit quieter.

“Don’t call her that,” Hodgins scolds and gets back into his former position. “You should really stop bickering all the time. It’s _you two_ that are acting like an old married couple.”

The blond murmurs something under his breath that the redhead can’t quite catch. He doesn’t ask for it and just empties his cup, setting it down on the coffee table before stretching again, joints cracking as he does. He has long since undone the first two buttons of his dress shirt and shrugged out of his vest, but he still craves to undress and go to bed.

However, Benedict takes this action as an invitation to fill his cup again. The bottle is almost empty now and Hodgins watches the red liquid through lidded eyes. As tired as he is, it feels nice to sit together with Benedict, just the two of them. They haven’t done that in quite a while and, even though it seems silly with them seeing each other regularly, he started missing the younger man’s company.

With work involved, they barely interact like this anymore. Like friends, not just close colleagues. As stupid is it sounds, there is a difference.

Next to him, Benedict is escaping a yawn. Hodgins watches him amusedly before nudging him into the side.

“Do you want to head home for the night? It’s pretty late, after all.”

Benedict’s eyes snap into his direction, the look in them almost offended.

“I’m not tired,” he claims and Hodgins chuckles. “Besides, the bottle is almost empty. A few more minutes won’t make a difference.”

“Alright, then.”

They sit in silence again and the glances that Benedict keeps on throwing into his direction are driving Hodgins crazy. It’s not like Benedict isn’t driving him crazy anyway, with his soft hair and piercing eyes and those stupid boots that make his legs look oh-so-good. But these stolen glances are making it especially hard. Because they make his tipsy mind think that maybe, _maybe_ , he could be driving Benedict just as crazy. But that’s nonsense, wishful thinking he doesn’t even allow himself on good days. And today is definitely not a good day.

“Do I have something on my face?” He asks, only being able to take so much. He made sure to erase the annoyance from his tone, to sound rather amused and curious. Maybe a little teasing. But Benedict is blushing deeply and it’s completely throwing Hodgins off guard. How can someone so brusque and confident be so embarrassed all the time? He barely sees anyone blush as much as Benedict.

“I was just wondering,” Benedict says. He licks his lips, apparently unsure if he should continue, and Hodgins watches how the other man’s adam’s apple jumps when he swallows hardly. “I mean- it’s not my place to ask, of course. But I was wondering if you like someone else, if it isn’t Cattleya. I’m just curious.”

Benedict’s hands grip his cup like a drowning man would with a piece of driftwood, and he chugs the rest of his drink with the same attitude. And Hodgins - Hodgins can just stare at him, realising that Benedict must be his driftwood and, at the same time, the water he’s drowning in.

“There is someone,” he replies with a heavy voice, eyes intensely locking with Benedict and searching for any sign of mutuality. “And you?”

“Yeah,” Benedict breathes out and reaches out to him. Hodgins doesn’t even look down when these pale fingers dig into his forearm. The touch sends him completely over the edge and even a man with more control and composure would have given in, he is sure of it.

He leans forward, almost crashing into the other’s form, and Benedict is meeting him halfway. Their lips meet in a frenzy of a sloppy kiss and it’s painful, but oh so relieving at the same time. They both groan into it and the hand from his forearm reappears at the back of his neck, tangling in the mess of his hair to pull him closer. Hodgins’ own hands come up to dig into Benedict’s side, and with the last shred of his mind he loosens his grip enough so it won’t bruise.

They open their mouths, and Benedict tastes like the wine and the food they had. The low sound that escapes Benedict’s throat is one that Hodgins wants to hear again and again, until it’s engrained in his memory for eternity. His lips are soft against his, and he briefly wonders how chapped his are from the whole day of biting on them, but Benedict doesn’t seem to care in the least, just kisses him back like his life depends on it.

One of Hodgins’s hands wander down after a while, until it reaches a sliver of exposed skin. His fingers immediately go to it, and he feels Benedict shiver beneath his touch, and then Benedict separates their mouths. Hodgins immediately removes the hand from beneath his shirt.

“Too hasty?” Hodgins asks and Benedict immediately shakes his head.

“No - god, no, I just-“ Hodgins follows the other’s look and notices that Benedict’s other hand is still gripping the stupid tea cup, a little too far away to reach the safety of the table. He begins to chuckle and removes one of his hands from the other’s form to help put the cup away.

Afterwards his attention is on Benedict again, though his agitation from earlier has ebbed down a little. They kiss again, short and soft, and Hodgins takes the other’s face in between his hands.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he says and pecks Benedict’s lips again.

“Likewise.”

Benedict leans forward to pepper Hodgins’s neck and stubbly jaw line with kisses and the older man groans in approval, fingers digging into the other’s hair and scalp. When he feels teeth ghosting over his skin a shiver runs over him and he truly feels like a drowning man again.

“Benedict,” he heaves out and the ‘hmm’ at his neck doesn’t help.

They are tired, and they are under the influence of alcohol, and even though it feels good, _so good_ , and he doesn’t want to at all, they have to stop and actually talk about this. But then, just when he begins to pull himself together, Benedict has to make everything worse:

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he whispers into Hodgins ear, “us two, I mean. Like this and even closer. I want you so bad.”

Honestly? _Screw logic._

Hodgins pushes Benedict away, softly, and before a look of betrayal can form on his face their lips are meeting again, mouths open and tongues pushing against each other. Hodgins finds the other man’s hips and Benedict understands. They separate once more while Benedict swings one of his gorgeous long legs onto the sofa and as soon as Hodgins has climbed between them they attack each other again, this time closer and at a better angle.

Fingers find buttons and undo them clumsily in order to touch and feel skin, Benedict’s legs wrap around Hodgin’s waist and when their groins meet - oh damn.

They don’t go for that, though. They kiss and caress, but no one dares to go beyond that line, the boundary that they simultaneously build up. And after a while their touches get softer again, their wild, open-mouthed kisses turn into gentle pecks and when Benedict yawns into Hodgins neck they know that it’s over, that moment of drowning and the need to hold onto each other.

Hodgins plops down next to Benedict, in between him and the backrest of the sofa. They are still heavily clinging to each other, fingers digging into fabric and the skin that they have exposed, but they have reached the eye of the storm now, even though their hearts are still racing to get there.

During their make out session Hodgin’s hair has gone loose, not that it had been incredibly tidily styled in the first place, and Benedict’s fingers play with a few strands delicately. It feels nice, their bodies pressed together and breathing as one while the drowsiness of sleep is a possibility dancing on the horizon.

“Maybe we should head home for the night,” Hodgin says after a few minutes of catching their breath.

“Maybe,” Benedict replies.

None of them act on the proposal.

“I didn’t know you had chest hair,” Hodgins says after a while, when he feels Benedict slumber off beside him.

“I shave, normally,” Benedict says. “Before a rendezvous.”

Hodgins has to laugh out loud at that. “ _That’s_ what you call this?”

“What else should I call _this_?” He pokes into Hodgins’ chest, who has never bothered about shaving anything but his face. And even there he is a little behind, recently.

“Not _this_. _Us_ ,” Hodgins says, making Benedict blush like an idiot again. “You like me, right?”

“Of course I do!”

“Good, because otherwise _this_ would be extremely embarrassing.” And at this Hodgins leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of Benedict’s hair. It smells like the expensive conditioner he uses.

“It’s still embarrassing,” Benedict comments, but Hodgins can feel the smile tugging on Benedict’s cheek and his chest. And _in_ his chest, somewhere, probably, too.

“You’re embarrassing,” Hodgins replies. “You and your shoes.”

“What do you have with my shoes?” Benedict asks, already halfway to sleep again. God bless him, being able to fall asleep so easily. It’ll probably take another war for Hodgins to fall asleep anywhere but in his own bed, even with this perfectly unperfect man resting in his arms.

“They’re ridiculous.”

“And extremely good-looking.”

Hodgin falls silent, cannot argue against that, and Benedict snorts, accepting his win.

“I like your chest hair,” Hudgins murmurs after a while, when his hand came up to lazily stroke an incoherent pattern into Benedict’s skin. It’s not a lot of hair, but it’s there. Blond and only visible in the right lighting. It’s easier to feel than to see.

“Don’t get used to it,” Benedict murmurs back.

“As long as I can get used to other things,” Hudgins tries to murmur, but it comes out more like a hushed whisper. Like a secret, ushered into the night.

“As long as you let me sleep,” Benedict whispers, almost non-audible, and the ‘p’ a the end sounds more like a ‘b’.

A few seconds later, the rhythm of his breathing is as regular and slow as it can be.

“I can’t believe you fell asleep on me,” Hodgins says, keeping his tone as low as before, and represses the chuckle as he notices the word play. “I will repeat that in the morning, and watch you roll your eyes. Like you always do when I say something stupid that you secretly think is funny.”

Benedict, of course, doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even stir. Just keeps on breathing, and clinging to Hodgins softly.

In the dim lighting of the room, and with nothing but a couple of streetlamps outside to chase away the darkness, and everything so quiet in the middle of the city, Hodgins feels weirdly wistful. Alone. Except for Benedict next to him, of course. But it feels like the rest of the world could be gone, only leaving the two of them.

The two of them.

‘ _Us_ ,’ echoes in Hodgins’s head.

Are they? An ‘Us’? Can they even be?

This was more than a tipsy mistake, right? More than one night spend together, to end with them going back to whatever game they were playing before.

Plagued by these thoughts, he chances a glance to the clock at his wall. It takes a moment for him to make out the watch hands, but when he does he lets out a low sigh, realising that he would have less than seven hours of sleep if he were to fall asleep now. About six if he were to make his way home and then back here again in the morning. Which he, essentially, will have to do if he wants to catch some sleep himself.

“I’ll wake you up in half an hour,” he murmurs into the silence of the room. “And then we’ll go home. And get some proper sleep.”

He wonders if he could arrange to make both of them come in an hour later, he is the boss, after all, though he hates taking advantage of it. Then he wonders when they will have the time to talk about this, this possible ‘Us’. Wonders if it’ll become a routine, Benedict falling asleep against him, and him contemplating everything in his head. Wonders if he would mind (no, he wouldn’t.) Wonders if he’d let Benedict come home with him, if he would ask. In twenty minutes, when he wakes him up. He comes to the conclusion that yes, he would, and then they might really have to come in late in the morning if they decide to continue what they were too tired for this night.

Before he gets to the ten-minute mark, Hodgins falls asleep himself, and all wonderings about what tomorrow brings fall off him.


End file.
